


Sasquatches and Spider Webs

by RiaMarie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Camping, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Mad Scientists, Missing Persons, Mystery, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam is Missing, Sasquatch, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3556892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaMarie/pseuds/RiaMarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While waiting on their next job from Dad, the boys find themselves investigating a series of odd disappearances at Tawakoni State Park. Sometimes the truth is more far-fetched than the imagination. Set during Season One. Missing!Hurt!Sam, Protective!Angsty!Dean/Bobby in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> Author: Ria  
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything created by Kripke, just stepping into his world for a bit.  
> Warnings: PG-13 for some swearing (probably an f-bomb or two) and mildly disturbing situations. Some hurt!Sam and protective!angsty!Dean/Bobby in later chapters.  
> A/N: Takes place during Season One, directly after the episode 'Hell House.' You may recognize this from ff.net. Yes, same author, just moving my works over to this archive.

Sam awoke to the light rumble of thunder — not that the noise had been loud, but since being back on the road with his brother, sleep rarely came easy and never lasted long. He turned groggy hazel eyes toward the digital clock between the two queen beds, 5:02 a.m. — Super. He briefly considered rolling over and just going back to sleep; it’s not like they had anywhere to be today. He closed his eyes for just a moment, and a flash of raging flames and blonde curls assaulted his vision. The thought of falling back to sleep in that moment made him nauseous. 

Nightmares of Jess’s death haunted his subconscious, persistently roused him, and left him exhausted on a daily basis; all he wanted was to find their dad and hunt down the monster responsible for her murder. After months of sparse contact with his father and being tracked across the countryside on random jobs, it was getting extremely difficult to keep his frustration in check. After several weeks, he had deduced the best way to stave off the ache of her absence was to focus on the hunt.

The curtains were thick, but the dim morning light still managed to creep in around the edges. Dusk illuminated dark outlines of the sparse furniture in their most recent shabby motel room, but thankfully, it was still too dark to see the rotten yellow paint coating the walls.

Sam rolled from his stomach to his back, preparing to sit up and grimaced over the stiffness present in his shoulder blades. Mordecai hadn't been gentle slamming him into the sturdy cabin wall, but it really wasn't too bad compared to the larger scope of potential injuries. 

Thunder rolled again above the motel, and the first raindrops of the storm smacked against the outside surface of the room's ac unit. Within minutes, the patter turned into a lulling white-noise as the downpour released.

Sam sat up — hair sticking up at every angle — and looked over to the other bed where his brother still slumbered, breathing deeply and oblivious to the sour weather. Kicking off his comforter, Sam stood and stretched out, shivering slightly as the cool air prickled the skin on his arms and legs. He slipped his jeans up over his boxers and pulled his worn Stanford hoodie over his head which helped to flatten his unruly locks.

Taking a seat at the small table near the door and opening the laptop, Sam started looking for their next potential hunt — or his next potential distraction. Dean hadn't mentioned receiving any recent case tips from Dad, and a new job seemed like the best way to keep them occupied and to keep his mind from reliving darker thoughts and memories.

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

At about 8:30 a.m. Dean rolled over and stretched beneath warm covers. He recognized the faint clip of keystrokes from the table at the end of his bed. Great, Sammy is already up; I wonder if he got any sleep last night. Despite having readjusted to Sam's new sleeping and eating schedule, or lack thereof, it still made Dean uncomfortable that the kid wasn't taking proper care of himself.

After a minute, his groggy voice drifted from the pillow masking his face.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?" Sam replied, glancing up from the glow of his laptop screen.

"If you're up, why don't I smell coffee?"

Sam chuckled in response, reached to his left for the curtain cord, and gave it a sharp tug. Dean groaned at the sudden invasion of light, but realized it was still much dimmer than the early morning sun. Squinting toward the glass, he could just barely make out the drizzle of rain.

"Well," Dean yawned as he climbed out of bed and stretched, "I'm gonna grab a shower and then we can get some grub."

Sam watched him lumber off into the bathroom and the door slid shut. A couple minutes later, the shower came on, and Sam could hear the water pressure straining the pipes in the walls. Hazel eyes refocused on the screen, opening an online article about an undergrad student from Garland, Texas who went hiking a few weeks ago and didn't show up for class that following Monday.

After being caught up in a few similar articles, Sam heard the bathroom door open and Dean strolled out, adjusting his t-shirt as it attempted to cling on his slightly damp abs. He looked over at his little brother before announcing, "Grab your shit and lets blow this pop-stand; I'm hungry."

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

Over the short drive from the motel, the heavy storm had drifted out leaving sparse cloudy patches to dot an otherwise sunny sky. The air was warm but the dreary morning storm had left a cooler breeze in its wake. 

The diner Dean had located was on a small no-name back road north of Houston. It seemed sturdy enough but the location amidst a few dilapidated buildings and the emptiness of the diner itself radiated a ghostly feel. Sam followed Dean into the front glass doors of 'Harl's Home Cooking' and slid into the booth across from his brother.

Business seemed pretty slow as Sam observed the three other patrons sparsely scattered around the open space. There were two older gentlemen sitting up at the breakfast bar, spaced out on the stools furthest apart, and another person at a booth toward the back who held a newspaper up, effectively hiding his appearance.

Dean's eyes immediately hooked on the young, blonde waitress who bopped up to their booth with more enthusiasm than was called for at this hour of the day. "Hello guys. Nice to see some new faces. What can I get ya'll this mornin'?"

Dean flashed a flirtatious grin as he noticed that the top of her apron was a bit snug for her bust. His eyes glanced at her oval name tag. "Well Amber, I'll have the three meat skillet with an extra side of bacon and coffee."

Her lust-filled eyes lingered at Dean for an extra moment as she scribbled his order down before turning to face Sam. "And for you, sweetie?"

Sam cringed a little at the question — that tone of voice was usually reserved for toddlers. "Waffles and coffee, please."

Amber nodded and slid their menus off the table while blowing a small pink bubble from the wad of gum in her mouth. It popped as she batted thick eyelashes at Dean. "Shouldn't be too long. Please let me know if you need anything else."

Dean's head tilted toward the aisle as he watched her walk away, noting how she over-exaggerated her hip movements. Sam's obviously fake cough brought his attention back to his younger brother.

"Dude, you're gonna get drool on the table." Sam jibed, offering his older brother a napkin.

"Whatever man, don't be a sore loser… just because I'm hot and you need a kiddie menu…" Dean let the words hang in the air as Sam glared at him, slouched down in the small space with his arms crossed.

"So, any new texts from Dad?" Sam asked, effectively changing the discussion. Dean had hoped his brother would be in a more light-hearted mood this morning after all the pranks they had pulled over the past week.

"Nothing yet." Dean replied, and for just a brief second, saw a flash of disappointment in his little brother's eyes.

"Well I may have something we can look into since we're still in Texas." Sam stated while removing his laptop from its secure space in his backpack. He turned the screen around so Dean could look at the pages he'd saved for offline viewing.

The earliest article was published early May of this year and what started out as 2 disappearances that month became 4 in June, 6 in July, and was up to 7 as they were now nearing the end of August. At a glance, the victims didn't appear to have anything in common — different ages, different cities and states, different genders — mostly tourists. They had all vanished with their last known location being in the woods around Lake Tawakoni. Whatever was causing the disturbance at the park didn't seem to have a specific preference for targets.

After letting his older brother have a few minutes to look over the articles, Sam turned his attention back from the window view of a partially dismantled vehicle resting in the trashy lot next to the diner. "So, what do you think?"

"First thought was a serial killer grabbing loners from the park, but they usually have a specific type, so this may be our kind of problem. Plus, people tend to get sloppy and none of the bodies have been found yet. Maybe its some kind of satanic ritual or 'corporeal' creature eating them; that would explain the lack of leftovers."

"Your new favorite word, huh?" Sam grinned, pleased about his influence over his brother's vocabulary.

"Shut up." Dean replied. He pushed the laptop back over to Sam while watching Amber glide over, plates skillfully balanced on her palms.

Sam nestled the computer back into his bag right as the plate took its place — narrowly missing the syrup dripping off the edge of the ceramic, but Amber's attention was glued to Dean, so she probably didn't notice the near accident.

The waitress leaned over toward Dean as she sat his plate down — an obvious attempt to show off her cleavage. "Give me a holler if there's anything else I can do for you; pay up at the counter when ya'll are finished." Amber ran the tip of her tongue against the back of her slightly parted lips and walked away with the same excessive motion as before.

"Talk about transparent…" Sam mumbled before taking a drink of coffee. When he looked back up his brother was holding a piece of paper, which by the pattern of stains on it must have been placed on the greasy plate with his meal. It wasn't possible for Dean's shit-eating smile to get any wider. The words 'call me' were followed by digits and sealed with the stereotypical lipstick kiss.

Sam rolled his eyes and poked at his soggy waffles, wishing they hadn't put the syrup on for him, while Dean shoveled in and gulped down scoopfuls of egg, pork, and cheese. After a few bites, Sam gave up on his meal and went back to looking out the window, sipping at the hot coffee.

Dean noticed Sam's grimace and the apparent lack of appetite that followed. He slowed down eating, nearing the end of his plate and glanced up at Sam, making a mental note that he needed to get a proper meal into his little brother later today — despite his fit physique, Dean could tell he'd lost weight since the fire in Palo Alto. "So Sammy, where is this place anyhow?"

"It's Sam," his brother replied dryly, "and Lake Tawakoni is straight north of here, east of Dallas. I think we should grab a motel on the outskirts of the city and then drive over to scope out the area, interview some of the locals. Most of the vics weren't from the area, and since whatever this is appears to be confined to the park, I think its unlikely that the relatives of the missing would have any link to what’s happening here."

"Perfect, except for one thing." Dean glanced back down at his plate with an odd expression that Sam couldn't quite place. 

"Well, what is it?" Sam asked after a minute of silence.

"We sorta need to avoid the Dallas/Garland area. Me and Dad worked this case while you were off at school and really pissed off the area law enforcement."

"That’s it?" Sam responded, an incredulous look on his face. "We piss off officers all over the country, and you're worried about a couple of cops in a massive city?"

"Well, its not just a couple cops… its more like over half of the Dallas PD, Garland PD, and the county sheriff. Trust me, its best that we just stay clear of the entire area."

"Holy crap. What did you and Dad do?"

"I don't really wanna go into detail. Let's just say it involved a couple hookers, a high speed chase, and ended with a massive block fire, destroying about four industrial buildings." Dean's look was grim, and despite all the follow up questions he had, Sam could tell the discussion was closed. He let the subject drop… for now and made a mental note to corner his brother about it later.

"Alright then, so how do you feel about camping? There isn't much out near the park; I already checked. We could pick up a couple of tents."

Dean made a noise that sounded vaguely like a growl from a poked grizzly bear. "I'd rather sleep in my car."

"There is an area with cabins, but I doubt they'll have TV, and probably not electricity or water either." Sam responded.

"Eh, better than the hard, dirty ground and less risky than trying to stay in the city." Dean conceded, but his tone definitely indicated he wasn't thrilled with the arrangements.

"I'll make the call on our way there then, see if any bunks are open." Sam stood up from the cramped booth and stretched slightly before hauling his backpack over his shoulder. "You pay; I'm gonna head out to the car."

"Sure stick me with the bill!" Dean called after his retreating brother.

"Figured you'd want a little time with your new high school friend," Sam replied waving a sarcastic hand in the air and walking through the doors into the parking lot. A puzzled look came over Dean's face as something moved beside him.

Amber appeared next to the booth, having just come out of the kitchen after overhearing the end of their conversation. "High school or not, I can be 18 for you." She winked, and Dean's shoulders jerked a little as his gulp of coffee went down the wrong pipe.

"Here's a twenty; keep the change." He managed a few coughs to clear his windpipe and hastily took off after Sammy.

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

TBC


	2. Blueberry Muffins?

After an hour trip on the back roads to Lake Tawakoni State Park, the sleek black Impala pulled up to the cabin Sam had reserved. The building looked small from the outside, not much wider than a king-sized bed.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Dean grumbled, "Looks more like a garden shed… or a handicap outhouse."

"Most people come out here with the intent to stay outdoors." Sam replied and shrugged. "As long as its got a couple beds and doesn't smell like an outhouse, it works for me. Besides, its only for a couple days while we figure out this hunt." The passenger door creaked open, and the car rocked as Sam stepped out onto the dusty parking space. Dean followed suit and both brothers grabbed their duffel bags from the trunk before climbing the rickety stairs leading to a screen door — the loose edges from years of wear and tear definitely wouldn't be keeping the bugs out.

Dean grimaced; the interior was so small he had the immediate urge to back out. It felt like standing in a linen closet except the shelves on the back wall were beds. He immediately tossed his duffle onto the bottom bunk and turned to Sam, expecting a challenge over the sleeping arrangements.

"Fine by me, those frames don't look too stable, and I'd rather be at the top of the pile when it collapses," Sam stated, countering his brother's judgement. The smile fell from Dean's face when he realized the flaw in his own logic. "Too late to change."

"Smart-ass," Dean responded and glanced around, noting everything that wasn't in the room. "Um, where's the bathroom?"

"Lady at the gate check-in said it was about a five minute walk up the camper trail from here. Shower hut too." Sam answered while glancing up at the streaks of sunlight shining in through the roofing boards — at least the rainy weather had cleared up since they left Houston.

"Seriously?" Dean complained, "We need to get this job done and get back to the real world, pronto!”

Sam pulled out a small notebook he had been scribbling on in the car and glanced at the list of names and addresses, before handing it down to Dean who was now sitting on the worn lumpy mattress.

"Those are some of the locals we can talk with — their names turned up in some of the articles as having given statements to the authorities about what they think was responsible for the missing tourists." Sam put his thick brown jacket up on the mattress and threw a lighter, loose button-up overshirt. Now that the sun was out, climbing past noon, the Texas heat would be spiking in a few hours, and the coat would be too heavy to haul around all day.

"So… what are they saying is out there?" Dean asked, laying back on his bunk, arms crossed behind his head.

"The majority said Big Foot." Sam cringed at the words, anticipating his older brother's reaction.

"Shit Sam, I knew it." He could just hear the older hunter's joy. "Years of hunting and we finally found him."

"Don't get too excited Dean, no one actually saw him nabbing campers; they've only experienced the usual random glimpse through the trees, and some of those sightings are dated five or more years ago."

"Don't be a wet blanket Sammy, this is like every hunter's dream!"

"Right Dean, it is a dream, because they don't actually exist. Reports have been coming in for decades; if it was out there, someone would had to have shot one by now. Hell, Bobby's the best hunter and outdoor tracker we know, and even he has ruled out their existence."

"No one likes a sceptic. Besides, everything we kill is supposed to be fiction according to the general public." Dean stood up from the bunk and slipped his favorite colt into the back waistband of his jeans.

"Alright fine, lets go talk to locals about their redneck hippie hallucinations. Park rangers for cover?"

"Ouch Sammy, so much discrimination in one sentence. Rangers works for me, it would suck so hard to wear the fed suits in this heat."

"Yet you're still in the leather jacket… and its Sam, Jerk."

"Lets go Bitch, we've got interviews to do."

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

Late in the afternoon, Sam and Dean found themselves standing on a spacious wooden deck outside a trailer home at the edge of Tawakoni Park. The porch was garnished with marigolds and daisies, overlooking a small clearing that pushed right up against the forest. In the clearing were four long sitting logs arranged around the ashes of a bonfire pit in the center. The grass in the clearing and the yard surrounding the trailer was clean cut and a healthy bright green.

Sam fidgeted while leaning against one of the porch rails, arms crossed over his chest and sweat beading on his neck. The combination of sweltering heat and the complete bullshit of the stories they'd listen to all afternoon was wearing on his nerves. Dean didn't appear as annoyed as his little brother, but for all the locals they had interviewed, not one statement had been helpful in determining exactly what lurked in the woods or how to stop it. Each story was just a carbon-copy sighting of Big Foot, spanning a few seconds without any actual evidence.

Dean had sensed his brother's waning patience and decided to take point on this last interview, since it would be the discussion most likely to yield some results. After knocking on the door seconds before, he could hear padded feat on the carpet and the door creaked open.

Looking through the screen, Dean was able to make out the trailer's resident. She was a smaller women, older but not yet elderly with her sun-bleached blonde hair pulled up into a pony-tail and the rest of her wrapped in a fuzzy turquoise robe. The satin trim of her pink nighty stuck out from the fold; it was odd attire to be wearing in the late afternoon.

"Mrs. Becky Yeske?"

"Thats me," she replied hesitantly, her eyes roving over the two strangers on the other side of the screen door. "What can I help you boys with?"

"Well ma'am, we're rangers with the Texas State Wildlife Commission — my name is Dean Walsh and this is Sam Livgren — and we were hoping to ask you a few questions about your husband's disappearance."

"Ain't never heard of no Texas State Wildlife Commission… and the park rangers and sheriff already took my statement back in May.”

“We're a smaller, newer division to the board for State Parks — its our job to follow up on reports and identify cases that may involve new species." Dean elaborated, hoping Sam would step into the discussion — his puppy dog eyes just had a soothing, trust-inducing effect on anyone over age 30. His little brother stayed silent, gaze roving the forest edge.

"Um, I suppose I could go through the information one more time. Hows come you don't just use the report they took last time?"

"A lot of people are skeptical when it comes to discovering new species; they tend to insert their opinion into the statement or not ask the correct questions. We prefer to interview first then read back over the reports — gives us better results." Dean smoothly responded to her questions and stepped back from the screen as she moved to open the door.

"Mind if we talk outside? The house is a bit of a mess at the moment." Her voice was timid in volume but her rigid movements relayed that there was no way they'd be going inside for this discussion. "So rangers, where would you like me to start?"

"Just give us a description of what happened and then we'll have some questions based on the details in your story."

Mrs. Yeske went into the details of how her husband, George, had gone off fishing in the early morning hours but never made it home that evening. She waited up all night and called the police the following day. The sheriff came out to take her statement and assured her they would do everything in their power to find him, but nothing ever turned up. The park rangers turned up for her statement later in the day, same results.

Dean glanced over at Sam and observed that he was listening intently to the story, but not really responding to her emotional queues like he usually would.

"How early did George leave that morning?" Dean softly prodded.

"About 4:00 a.m."

"What time did you expect him home?"

"Normally he wouldn't stay out later than 6:00 p.m. We're always up very early — usually around 3 or 4 — so we turn in for the night about 8:00 p.m."  
"Did he behave any differently before he left?"

Mrs. Yeske took a moment to think, "No."

"Did the rangers or sheriff find anything at all? Evidence? Leads?" Dean pressed for information — after all the time wasted this afternoon, they really needed some solid intel.

"They didn't find anything. Not that it would matter. I know what happened, and they wouldn't listen to me."

Sam moved for the first time since they'd arrived, pushing off the railing, interest peaked. "What do you believe happened to your husband?"

Becky jumped slightly at the new voice and looked at Sam, as if she were just noticing his presence. "Well the Squatches got him, of course. They always liked George."

Sam's shoulders visibly fell and Dean jumped back in, "If they liked him, why would they take him?"

"Well to make him one of them," she replied as if this were the most obvious explanation. "They made him a Squatch. I'm sure he's still here, but he can't tell me 'cause I don't speak Squatch."

There was a pause, coupled with two blank stares, as the brothers tried to absorb the revelation. Sam gave Dean a slight eye roll and turned to observe the wooded area behind the camper, trusting his older brother to keep up their credibility since he was beyond believing another word from this woman.

"Mind if I take a look around the yard?" Sam asked hoping to dismiss himself politely.

"Of course Ranger." Sam nodded his thanks and headed across the yard to check the tree-line for any evidence that might help him determine what they were actually dealing with.

Dean watched Sam's retreat and turned back to Becky with a tactful smiled plastered on his face. "Excuse my partner, we've had a long day and not nearly enough coffee. So can you tell me about the Sasquatches you've seen in the area?"

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

After 30 minutes of listening to Becky's description and theories on the local Sasquatch tribe, Dean thanked her for her time and asked if they could take a closer look at the woods behind her home. She agreed and shuffled back into her house, mumbling something about missing the evening news.

Dean walked up behind Sam who was staring into the forest. He stood at the edge of what looked like a narrow man-made trail, worn dirt surrounded by tall weeds but no distinct tracks.

"Find anything useful?" Dean asked as he came up next to his brother.

"Nah," Sam shook is head. "How was the rest of the interview?"

"Well, apparently there is a family of Sasquatches that come visit her for their 'bedtime snack' almost every morning around 5:00 a.m."

"HA!" Sam barked out.

"Dude, don't interrupt… anyway, they love blueberry muffins — like Big Foot crack or something — and they travel as a family, so there's usually about 8 or so in the group." Sam's shoulders were shaking with barely contained laughter as Dean continued. "She thinks that George was bit by a Sasquatch, so he turned into one. She also mentioned that the family numbers have grown by a couple over the past few months."

"Hm, so we could be dealing with something similar to a werewolf?" Sam asked, sobering up a bit from the comical part of the story. "Only this is almost daily, so they don't follow a lunar cycle and must be a lot less aggressive… especially if their preferred diet is blueberry muffins." The humor was back.

"As ridiculous as this is Sammy, we may have something here. Based on her statement, there is a really good chance we'll get a look at whatever this is tomorrow morning."

"Yeah alright, it is the most solid lead we have at the moment. While there's still some light left, we should check out some other areas in the park. I'm thinking this trail is probably the one George took back to the lake, but the other missing persons would have come from a trail hooking up to the parking area past the main gates," Sam described while pulling out his park map. "That means, if we park in the lot here, by the lake, we can follow that trail around the southern bank, and it should connect with this back trail. We could just follow the loop around and camp out here for the 5:00 a.m. show."

"Excellent plan Samantha, lets head back to the car before the crazy catches."

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

TBC


	3. It's Bugs

The Impala rumbled down as Dean threw his baby into park, Def Leopard piercing the peaceful atmosphere of the immediate area. At about 7:00 p.m., the dusty parking lot next to the lake was nearly abandoned — the only other vehicle present was beat up station wagon sitting a few spaces away. The music died with the engine as the boys stepped out of the car and walked around to the back. Sam laid the park map out on the trunk lid.

"Okay, so the marks I've placed along certain trails are where evidence has been found for some of the missing people — mostly personal belongings like camping gear, cell phones, or various loose objects that may have been on their person when abducted. There are a few different paths we need to hit. I figure we can take these two first, while we still have some light. Then we can circle back to this trail which intersects the path George likely would have taken from the trailer. We should be sure to get over that way fairly early — scope out the area before the Sasquatches start moving that way, if they even show."

"Sam, they'll show. She said they come almost every morning."

"Right, and I saw that same woman years ago on some Monster-type documentary with the same story. The crew camped out a couple days and got nothing." Sam sighed. He clearly felt that believing anything they'd heard today was pointless, and they should be focusing on other possibilities. As it was, they were about to go tramping through the woods blind, and that was not okay with him. "Maybe we should wait until morning — get an early start, check out the Sasquatches at the Yeske's place, and survey the forest when we have more daylight time."

"Awe, whats the matter Sammy, scared of the dark?"

"You know I'm not. I just think we need to be prepared before charging into whatever is happening out there." Sam exclaimed, defending his thoughts about the situation. It had been a long, hot day, and after an irritating afternoon, he did not want to half-ass this investigation and screw up the job.

"We don't have much extra time here Sam. In case you haven't noticed geek boy, there is a pattern here, and the end of the month is approaching fast. That means one more person is about to disappear, and I'm not going to sit on my ass and wait." Dean responded, the conversation growing more heated.

"We don't know what's out there Dean — it could be anything — and that means we also don't know how to kill it. There's no way we can carry the entire contents of the trunk out into the forest."

"Then we'll take the basics and find out what works. If we fail tonight, we come back tomorrow and try again. End of story, Sam. Now lets do this." Dean threw up the trunk lid, knocking the map down into the dirt. He removed his favorite colt, machete, silver knife, and a flask of holy water from the hidden compartment and gestured for Sam to follow his actions.  
Sam grabbed a sawed-off, an old hunting knife, the other small silver blade, and another flask of holy water. He also shoved a handful of salt rounds and silver bullets into his jean pockets. "Make sure you grab a bottle of regular water too; you don't want to dehydrate."

Dean nodded, slammed the trunk shut and continued, "While there's still some light, we should split up. We'll each take one of the shorter trails — each of those only had 1-2 marks — and that will give us the rest of the night to follow the longer trail back up to the Yeske's. This is where most of the recorded disappearances happened, so if we run into anything, it will probably be back that way."

"We should really stick together for this Dean, especially since we don't know…"

"Dammit Sam, shut up. We're doing this the fastest way possible. I'm not letting another tourist disappear because we wasted time," Dean growled at his brother. Sam wasn't completely surprised by the outburst, but it dashed any hopes he had of trying to talk some sense into Dean.

"Fine. You take trail 'C' and I'll grab trail 'A.' Each trail is actually longer than it looks on the map, so it will probably take a couple hours to make it to the end and back. It'll be dark by the time we make it back here, so be careful. If we want to be back at the Yeske's by 3 or 4 a.m., we should aim to be back here by midnight. We'll meet at the car before starting on trail 'B' since this is where most of the victims were taken. Is that plan okay with you, Sergeant?"

Dean smirked at the title, and even though he thought Sam was being a bitch about the situation, it helped to alleviate some of the tension. Although still unhappy with his brother's decision, Sam didn't feel like pushing the point any further. Dean's mind was made up and arguing would just lead to more of a headache than the heat was already causing.

Sam shoved his sawed-off into the back waistband of his jeans, tucking the back of his shirts over it, and headed toward their designated trail 'A.' "See you back at the car around midnight," He yelled over his shoulder, and then mumbled, "If we're not dead."

"Be careful out there." Dean called back, knowing if trouble found them it would most likely stumble on his little brother first.

Sam was almost to the opening for the trail when he heard a sharp twig snap toward his right. The area was thick with foliage. He paused a moment, listening for another sound. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that Dean had also heard the noise and was now on alert, staring at the bushes near Sam.

After a tense minute or so, the normal ambience of the forest returned and Sam relaxed — probably just some of the harmless local wildlife. He took another step toward the trail when something large barreled out of the leaves with a crash, nearly taking them both to the ground. Sam maintained his balance and fell into a fighting stance, hunting knife in hand.  
Dean raced over, gun in one hand, fake ID in the other. When the commotion stopped he surveyed what they were dealing with — it appeared to be human.

"What gives? Watch where you're going!" the stranger snapped at Sam while re-shouldering his black duffel and grabbing the tackle box he dropped. He came up from the crouch to full height, almost as tall as Sam but much less by way of muscle mass. He was lanky with spiky black hair and dark-rimmed, square glasses.

Dean flipped open his knockoff badge while maintaining a precautionary distance. "Take it easy there, kid. What's your rush?"

"I'm late." He barked, "and I'm pretty sure I'm older than you, kid. What are you guys doing out here anyway? Haven't been too many people around lately."

"That's why we're here. We're rangers with the Texas State Wildlife Commission, investigating the disappearances." Sam said calmly, and sheathed away his weapon.

"There's no such department. I'm an ecology grad student at UT Dallas, and I've never heard of you." The guy argued.

"New department. Now, what we're really interested in is who you are and why you're out here." Dean still had his colt in hand, and even though he had lowered it, the guy eyed it warily and lost some of the attitude.

"Name's Kelvin Marklein. I'm doing research for my thesis, an entomology project."

"What, like trees?"

"Its bugs, Dean." Sam corrected in a hushed voice.

"What kind of ranger doesn't know that?" Kelvin sneered; it was clearly a rhetorical question.

"Doesn't matter what you study. You're out here a lot?" Dean proceeded with the interrogation.

"Nearly every day."

"Ever see anything odd?" Sam cut in, "Like something unexplainable or maybe an unidentified species?"

Kelvin gave him a curious look before responding. "Nope, just the usual." He answered quickly and continued, "If you ask me, these people were just idiots, like you two — went hiking and camping without taking proper preparations."

"What would they have needed to be prepared for exactly?" Dean prodded.

"You know, basic stuff like a first aid kit, compass, water… not to mention knowing what the local wildlife is capable of — deadly bug bites, poisonous plants, carnivores. They could have fallen prey to any number of things out here and not been found; its a large area."

"Most of the missing people were locals or outdoors enthusiasts. How could they have not been prepared?" Sam countered.

Kelvin gave Sam another bizarre look and ignored his question, "Like I said guys, I'm out here nearly every day and always make it out, so they had to have screwed up in some way."

Sam shot a look over to Dean that clearly reflected his distrust of Kelvin. "Kel, you said you were from UT right?" The student nodded at Dean, "Do you happen to know Mira Watson? She went missing out here about a month ago."

"Yeah I knew her. She was in the undergrad Bio program. I TA for some of the prerequisite courses."

"Knew, as in past tense? There's no evidence that she's dead yet." Sam pointed out Kelvin's choice of words, hoping to rattle out any information he might be holding back.

"She's been missing for a month; they say its unlikely to recover a missing person alive after 72 hours. By 30 days, out here it's unlikely you'll even find a corpse — lots of scavengers." Kelvin glanced over to his dusty station wagon, "now if you'll excuse me, like I said before, I'm in a hurry."

Sam reached into his pocket for one of their generic contact cards and handed it off to Kelvin, "You hear or see anything suspicious, give me a call. I'm Sam Livgren and he's Dean Walsh. Our department is very interested in potential new species."

"Will do rangers." Kelvin almost snarled at the card before shoving it into his pocket. He took wide, rushed strides to the car and peeled away down the gravel road toward the gates.

"It just me of does that guy seem uber suspicious?" Dean commented, more thinking out loud than asking.

"He screams closet ax-murderer. Maybe we are just looking for a person. This could be less our kinda thing and more a case for the cops." Sam added. Some of the looks Kelvin had given him were really unnerving.

"Don't knock the Big Foot theory yet, Samantha. We still need to have breakfast at Tiffany's."

"Her name is Becky." Sam rolled his eyes, refusing to allow his brother any satisfaction from the horrible pun.

"Whatever… but you gotta feel a little less antsy about what might lurking in the woods after talking to psycho. He's probably behind all this. We just gotta find some proof, stop the disappearances, and we'll be back on the road in no time."

"Yeah, but is it ever that easy?" Sam asked, eyes roaming off down the trail.

Dean headed back toward his path. "We can hope. Let’s just get this done."

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

TBC


	4. Missing

Sam was on his way back to the Impala just before midnight. He had found nothing to aid with locating Dean's imaginary Sasquatch that was supposedly stalking and abducting campers. Sam still had his doubts that a Bigfoot-like creature was even the cause of the disappearances. He had also found no evidence that could link Marklein or anyone else to what could be a run of serial murders, but with nothing else to go on, they had to follow any leads available. Having just received a text from Dean indicating he had also found squat after two hours, they agreed to regroup at the Impala before heading down the third and most promising trail.

The path Sam had been assigned to, as it turned out further into the forest, was hardly a path at all, overgrown with weeds and plant roots, — all of which were hard to see in the dark — so the journey back was very slow going. The flash light he had was useful for navigating, but did not illuminate all parts of the path due to the additional shadows it cast.

At this part of the trail, the ground sloped, unseen due to overlay of weeds, and Sam stumbled forward as something snagged his foot. His left arm shot up quickly to catch a low branch. What his hand found was not a branch, but it was sturdy enough to use as leverage and halt his forward momentum. It was almost elastic as it bounced up, pulling him back to the balls of his feet. From the feel of the material he grasped, Sam wondered if this was some type of vine or leafy vegetation.

"Huh," Sam mumbled to himself as he peered above his head, hoping to identify what had prevented his near face-plant moments ago — it was definitely too dark in the shadows to make out the plant.

Sam glanced down at the dropped flashlight a couple feet from where he was, thankful the light had not gone out when it fell. He started to reach for the torch but found he was unable to release the strange material above him. His eyebrows scrunched together with confusion as he yanked harder to pull his hand from the low canopy.

Surprisingly, the harder he pulled the worse his predicament became — with each tug, the material responded by bouncing his arm higher and was able to creep further down his his long-sleeved shirt. His entire forearm was now encompassed and his right hand came up to grasp his left bicep for more leverage. He tugged again, but the support provided from his other arm made no difference. Caught by a freaking plant.

Sam removed his free hand from his bicep and dug into his pocket. Holding the phone loosely, he hit the speed dial for Dean — knowing that his brother would never let him live this down, but seeing no other option. Before Sam could hit send, whatever it was that held his arm decided to yank back. Sam felt his feet lift from the ground. Startled, the cell phone slipped from his fingers and into the grass. His feet came back down, but there was now panic coursing through him — maybe this was some kind of trap set by what they were hunting.

Sam's eyes searched for the phone, but the screen light had gone out, and it blended as another dark spot in the grass. He was wrenched into the air again, about a foot, and this time his feet did not touch back down. Sam struggled while dangling in the air, spinning in a dizzying circle. Every twist only made the material around his arm tighter, and now that he was further off the ground, it coated his entire arm and stuck to the ends of his hair.

"Dean!" Sam shouted and prayed his older brother was close enough to hear him. Despite his panic over the seemingly helpless situation, Sam forced his body to be still so he could listen for a reply — none came.

A third, hard yank and Sam's whole body was airborne and into the lower branches of the trees. In the thick of the material he could feel it catch and tug at his clothing, his body still twirling without any way to anchor his feet. The movement slowed as his legs became wrapped together and his right arm was immobilized at his side. The material became taught, pulled from all sides, and the spinning finally stopped.

Sam took a shaky breath and blinked a few times to clear his head. A scratching sound came from behind him and was growing louder with each second. Sam's cheek was now pinned to his outstretched arm so he was unable to glance back. He could sense that the thing approaching was large in size and reeked of evil intent.

"DEAN!"

Sam felt the creature's weight latch onto his back in concurrence with an agonizing pain in his left side. There was a sharp crack that Sam recognized as a bone snapping followed by the sensation of floating in icy water. He knew the situation had really taken a turn for the worse when he could feel the thick, sharp objects impaling him below the ribs, but the pain was slipping away.

"DEA..!" Sam started again but his cry was stifled as something solid brushed across his face; it felt like the sharp bristles of a metal brush scrapping his skin, lips, and tongue. The irritating object slid away but was replaced by soft gooey substance. Sam's jaw closed reflexively, and he felt the goop mold around his teeth. He jerked upon discovering he could no longer open his mouth and could feel more of the substance tightening over his cheeks and lips.

Sam's struggles had been weak before due to the restraining material, but now feeling had ebbed out of his muscles completely leaving his whole body numb, and he could only hang there in silence.

Eyelids heavy, Sam concentrated on staying awake while listening to the easily recognizable ring of his phone far below.

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

Dean grumbled as the undergrowth kept catching around his boots. All he wanted was to get back to the car, drive to their cabin, and sleep for a solid 8 hours before having to come back out to the sticks — nature hiking had never been a hobby of Dean's, especially not at night while a rabid Sasquatch was on the loose. He then reminded himself that they still had another trail to investigate and muffin buffet to attend in the morning. "This really sucks."

The lack of ambiance in the thick of the woods was enough to convince Dean that something was seriously wrong in the forest — not even a cricket was chirping. It startled him all the more when he heard his name on the wind. At least, he thought he heard his name, and it sounded suspiciously like Sammy. Maybe the paths were closer than he thought, and his brother had found some evidence. He stopped walking and held still, listening.

After a few moments, Dean heard his name again, but this time it was much louder and with unmistakable urgency. There was only one person who could shout his name and make his hair stand on end like that; his baby brother was in trouble.

Dean shot off through the forest, heedless of the undergrowth he trampled. He pulled his gun from the waistband at the small of his back and clicked off the safety.

After a few minutes, running at top speed in the direction Sam's yell came from, Dean slowed.

"SAMMY!" Perception for sound was pretty difficult, especially in the dark, but Dean was guessing that this point was close to where the shout originated.

When no response was forthcoming, Dean pulled out his phone and called Sam. The ring was close enough to be heard, and he moved in the direction it came from. As he got closer to the noise, Dean could see a beam of light through the trees. He snapped his phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket, trading it for his colt.

Dean reached the flashlight at the end of the beam and was disappointed to find his brother was not at the originating end. He picked up the light and roved the beam around the ground turning up Sam's dropped cell phone. Three missed call from Dean's frantic dialing.

"Sam!" He spun around, shining both his and Sam's torch out into the woods, but there was no little brother in sight. The only other evidence his brother had left at the spot were some scuff marks in the dirt, no trail.

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

After an hour of searching and not being able to locate Sam in the immediate area, Dean had sprinted back to the Impala, hoping that maybe his brother had managed to make it to the car. No such luck. Still optimistic that his brother would come crashing through the tree line, Dean sat at the edge of the park trail, headlights illuminating the foliage and eyes focused for any movement.

Another hour passed by and the realization that Sam wouldn't be emerging from the forest was beginning to sink in. Feeling out of options, Dean did the only other thing his worried mind could think of given the circumstance. He knew his dad wouldn't respond, but maybe…

"Boy, it's 3 in the morning; this had better be good." The rough, grumpy voice coming through the speaker of his phone instantly soothed Dean's panic — if anyone would know what to do it was Bobby.

"Bobby, Sam is missing. We're in Northern Texas, a place called Lake Tawakoni. Some campers went missing — Sasquatch attacks — and we split up to search. It was my idea, and now he's just gone." The guilt in Dean's voice bled through the line — his father had always said not to split up, especially if you didn't know what you were dealing with. He should have listened to Sam.

"Well maybe he just hasn't made it back to the car yet." Bobby replied in a calm tone.

"I found his phone and flashlight on the ground." Dean stated, and Bobby could hear the devastation and desperation in his voice.

"Well best case scenario, he fell and got lost. You know how clumsy he can be." Bobby was doing his best to keep Dean calm, but knew how unlikely that scenario actually was given their line of work. He opened his frayed suitcase and began stuffing in his previously discarded dirty clothes.

"Do you actually think thats what happened?" Dean asked, "So how about worst case scenario?"

"No I don't think thats what happened to him… dammit. Worst case scenario depends on what you're actually hunting." Bobby said while lugging his suitcase and weapons bag out to his beat-to-hell Chevy pickup.

"Its a Sasquatch, Bobby. I already told you that." Dean's angry response ground at Bobby's patience.

"It ain't a Sasquatch ya idjit. You been hunting the supernatural with your daddy since you were 10. Have you ever heard of one getting close enough for person to touch it, let alone be abducted? Hell, most hunters don't even believe they exist."

"Well… no," Dean stammered, "but I don't know what else could be out there. All the locals' statements support the Bigfoot theory. We did meet up with this psycho kid today, but there's no way his scrawny ass would have been able to over power Sam." Dean glanced around the abandoned parking lot, "plus his car isn't out here."

"Dean, I want you to try and get some sleep — no sense stumbling around in the dark. I just finished up a job in Oklahoma, so I'll be there in the morning. What hotel you at?"

"We're at a cabin in 429 RV Park. Its about 3 miles from the Tawakoni Park, south side of the lake."

The receiver was silent for a few minutes as Bobby pulled out his map and located the campground. "Heading down from McAlester. Think I can make it in about 3 hours or less. And Dean, I know you're worried about your brother, but you stay up all night thinkin' on this, you won't be any good to help find him. Take a couple shots and pass out."

Dean snapped his phone shut, took one last long survey of everything visible in the headlights, and reluctantly drove back to the cabin — the thought of his brother alone and possibly injured in the woods somewhere gnawing at his gut. He'd try to get a few hours sleep, but he would definitely be at Yeske's bright and early — it was now his only lead on finding Sam.

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

TBC


	5. They're Just Crazy

A Chevy S10 p.o.s. groaned to a stop next to the Impala outside the boys' rented cabin, new dust settling on its already dirt crusted panels. Bobby stepped down from the driver's seat and resettled his hat after wiping the beads of sweat off his brow – even though the sun had yet to come up, the humidity was thick in the air. He shuffled around the bed of the truck, surveying the small wooden structure. "What the Hell? Is that an over-sized outhouse?"

Bobby took a few steps toward the cabin before the door was unexpectedly flung open with a loud crack. Dean emerged sporting a determined look that hardened his features, hauling both his and Sam's duffels over one shoulder. The buckle on one of the bags snagged at the loose mesh, further ripping the screen door as he gave it a frustrated yank.

"You're supposed to be asleep." Bobby growled accusingly as Dean stumbled down the rickety steps and over to the Impala's trunk, ungracefully tossing in the duffels. Even in the pale light, Bobby could see the disheveled appearance and blood shot eyes – if the kid did get any sleep, it wasn't restful.

"I did sleep," was Dean's gruff reply. "Besides, all the racket that rust bucket makes would wake even the dead within a mile radius." He slammed the trunk lid down and shouldered past Bobby to slide into the driver's seat. The Impala's engine roared to life. "Are you coming, old man? I've got places to be." Dean asked curtly and slammed the door shut.

"Stupid ass." Bobby rolled his eyes and hustled to the passenger door, barely stepping inside before the car lurched back in reverse and gunned forward over the dirt packed road. "I get that your brother's missing Dean, but where are we racing off to at 4 a.m.? The sun isn't even out yet; its too early to successfully pick up a trail."

"Yeti complimentary breakfast. This lady we interviewed yesterday said they stop by her place for muffins every morning."

"Didn't they debunk that story on some 'monster' show years ago?"

"Sammy said the exact same thing – what kind of garbage did you let him watch as a kid anyway? No wonder he's an encyclopedia of weirdness." Dean stated in a that-explains-everything tone. "Anyhow, this just happens to be the only lead we've got."

"We'll check it out son, but I guarantee the only Sasquatch in these woods is your brother." Bobby scoffed and shifted through his backpack, removing several folded papers.

"What's all that? Worried you'll get caught in the woods without any tp?" Dean asked.

"No, ya idjit; they're local tabloids and newspapers — best place to look when you've run out of ideas. Most of it's complete bullshit, but they occasionally catch something useful."  
Bobby flicked on a small flashlight and started skimming for any information that might be helpful, while Dean focused back on the road. Lynyrd Skynyrd filled the empty silence within the car, but the melody did little to relieve the tension. The older hunter slipped frequent glances at Dean out of the corner of his eye. It had been years since Bobby had seen the boys, but some things would never change — Dean, forever worried about baby Sammy.

"We'll find him, son." Bobby reassured as he continued looking through the articles.

Dean grunted in response and turned up the music in an effort to avoid any potential touchy-feely moments that statement might lead to. He secretly appreciated Bobby's attempt to put his mind at ease, but refused to succumb to the worry eating at his gut. He had to stay focused and determined if they were going to rescue Sammy. Plus, it was entirely too early for a chick-flick moment… he hadn't even gotten his morning dose of caffeine yet.

As if reading his mind, Bobby suddenly looked up from the papers in his lap. "Balls! I left the cups of coffee in the truck."

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

The sensation that brought Sam back to consciousness was the pounding in his head. He instantly thought hangover and fought to keep the bile back in his throat. Groggy as he was, Sam could tell his orientation with the ground was very off and attempted to right himself. The tightening of his abdominal muscles was accompanied by a fiery pain in his chest and stomach, burning so hot tears welled beneath his heavy eyelids.

Sam breathed through the first bout of pain and blinked in the dim light — the need to know where he was overwhelming. The smell was an earthy must, and as his vision focused, he could see small beams of morning sunlight penetrating through the ceiling of the quiet cavern. The walls were dirt with clusters of roots dangling, but some areas were coated in what appeared to be white silk, very similar in appearance to cobwebs…

With a start, Sam grasped the sickening realization of what had happened last night. It was a web; he was trapped in a giant spider's web, hanging at a tilted angle, and rendered immobile by the sticky thread — although it was difficult to move his head, he could see the white coating wrapped around his lower legs and feet, just hints of clothing visible through the thinner patches.

Sam's eyes roamed the still room for any sign of immediate danger but found nothing. He closed his eyes and willed the panic away. He had to escape and would need to be calm, and thinking rationally, to do so. His side still ached, but in this moment, he was thankful for the tight restraints — the stillness prevented him from causing more damage to the wound.

The first question on Sam's mind was what exactly they were dealing with. Unless Sasquatch was bit by a radio-active spider, he was no longer a suspect. Digging into the lore stored at the back of his brain, the only spider-related monster that came to mind was Arachne, a monster from Greek mythology created by the goddess Athena. It was unlikely that he would be dealing with the original monster, but perhaps she had descendants. Another thought was that maybe he was just dealing with a giant arachnid, a freak of nature that had somehow remained hidden for years. Although, if that were the case, why was he still alive and not an insect power-shake.

Sam's thoughts were interrupted as the shuffling of footfalls broke the silence. His eyes moved toward a small opening at the opposite side of the cavern. The noise was nothing like what the creature had made last night, so Sam was confident that whatever was coming through the tunnel was human — he was also optimistic that it would be Dean stepping into the room since he was undoubtably looking for Sam, and the only person with a rational reason to walk into a dark, creepy hole in the ground.

A few small clumps of dirt crumbled down from the steep tunnel, and Sam had the urge to shout for help, to let Dean know where he was.

"Mmph," Sam's nose scrunched as he remembered the webbing was still smothering his mouth. He didn't even want to think on how hard it was going to be to get this gunk off his clothes, let alone out pry it from his mouth and hair.

The shuffling from the tunnel got louder as the person picked up their pace — at least the noise Sam did manage to make had alerted them to his presence.

The figure that emerged through the opening was definitely not his older brother. Sam's eyes widened in surprise as Kelvin Marklein unwarily stepped into the underground chamber. Perhaps even more surprising was that he caught sight of Sam, smiled in recognition, and proceeded to cross the earthy room, knowing to avoid the white tendrils coating the floor in patches.

The lanky grad-student walked up to Sam and tilted his head sideways to line up with Sam's current world view from the gradient his body was suspended at. Kelvin's thick rimmed glasses pressed against the bridge of his nose, magnifying his eyes and giving Sam the impression he was being scrutinized under a microscope. Every instinct Sam had in that moment, under that maliciously fascinated stare was to bolt, but the tight restraints had no give.

Kelvin seemed to pick up on Sam's discomfort and backed up a little. His fingers searched around the pack hanging at his side and emerged with a pair of latex gloves and a gallon-sized zip-lock bag filled with a gray powder. He pulled the gloves on, the slight snap of the material resounding off the walls, disturbing the quiet, as the gloves fitted around his hands and forearms. He scooped out a palm full of the gray powder and rubbed his hands together to ensure they were completely coated.

Kelvin glanced back over to Sam. "Well, howdy ranger. Guess you figured out what's causing the disappearances." He stepped forward, taking a closer look at the wound on Sam's side. With gloved fingers, he poked at the area through the webbing, eliciting an agonized moan from the spider's latest catch. The substance coating the latex seemed impervious to the sticky webbing.

"Shhh," Kelvin soothed in a tone meant to come from a mother scaring away a child's nightmare. The reaction was polar opposite its intended effect. As soon as the coo left his lips, Sam started struggling more and grew close to hyperventilating. The strands of webbing holding up the cocoon visibly vibrated.

"Seriously, kid you need to calm down. Jerk around too much and she'll come back to bite you again." Sam fought to keep still and control his breathing, not sure he could live through a second encounter with the spider's fangs. It sickened him, but Kel was right — stationary as possible was his best option at the moment.

"That's better," Kelvin continued. "I realize what you're going through, the concept of this situation has to be pretty traumatic, but I promise to make it as painless as possible." Sam's eyes locked with Kelvin's as he pulled a couple syringes and a small vial of clear liquid out of his pack. "You'll be floating so high on this, pain free, you won't even realize what's happening."

Sam wasn't shocked that Kel's idea of compassion was anything but comforting. Relief from the pain was a welcoming thought, but the drug would leave him completely defenseless — take away his ability to think, which was pretty much all he had left at this point. How could anyone be this bat-shit crazy?

Kelvin moved back up to Sam with one of the empty needles. "Hold still, Sam; this is definitely going to sting, but I need to get a clean blood sample before administering the tranquilizer. Despite how efficiently Betsy's adapted to her rapid growth, her venom glands haven't kept up and aren't potent enough to digest her prey. This sample will help me see if there's any improvement." Sam was hit with a strong urge to hurl as grade school science classes came flooding back and he remembered with shocking clarity that spiders liquify their prey before draining their insides. He found himself wondering if choking on his own vomit would be the better way to die.

Of all the untold horrors Sam had seen growing up with his father, a man obsessed with the Supernatural… he was about to be killed by a mad-scientist and his giant pet spider… named Betsy. Seriously, what the fuck?

While Sam focused on his inward thoughts, Kelvin had stepped back up and started shifting the webbing near the puncture wounds until he found a spot of smooth skin. Whatever elastic properties the silk may have had, diminished at the touch of Kel's dust-coated gloves. "Oh, thats fascinating."

The statement brought Sam's focus back to Kelvin. "One of the puncture wounds is colored black." Ah God. Sam thought… there's more than one? Although, one hole or two, it was bound to be just as painful. "I've never seen it do that before. Maybe I'll get some positive results for the venom production this time."

The needle pushed in suddenly and the pain was so agonizing, Sam couldn't have found breath to scream even if his jaws weren't locked together. Tears flowed from his eyes and black spots danced about the edges of his vision. Seconds turned to minutes and Sam prayed he would just pass out from the pain.

"Almost finished," was Kelvin's un-empathetic comment as he concentrated on the extraction of blood into the surprisingly large glass tube. Sam watched Kel hold the syringe up to his glasses and carefully remove the needle before capping the tube. Rather than dissipating, the sharp pain in his side grew and spread; his breath hitched as his chest fought to expand against the discomfort.

The moment Kelvin had packed away his precious sample, he filled the other syringe while leaning over his bag. By the time Sam had gained control of the pain, Kel was back in front of him tapping a syringe of clear liquid — small oxygen bubbles floating to the surface. He pressed on the plunger to release the air before reaching out to Sam again. Another layer of gray powder coated the gloves and cleared the webbing from the crook of Sam's outstretched left arm.

Kelvin injected the medicine quickly and within seconds, Sam could feel his muscles relaxing — the pain becoming a dull ache. As much as he despised being drugged, Sam was glad for a brief respite from the pain. He just hoped the fogginess would clear before 'Betsy' got hungry, and through droopy eyelids, he watched Kelvin scoop up and shoulder his bag. Just as he reached the pit's opening he called something back, but the drug had already taken effect, and Sam only caught partial words before darkness overcame him. "I… ack… ater."

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

TBC


	6. Suspicious Behavior

Dean scuffed his foot into the ground, tracing a groove of frustration into the earth, gravel skittering away in all directions until only the patch of dirt remained. He leaned back against the Impala's driver side fender, squinting against the morning sun as his gaze followed the quiet road back East toward the park.

Yeske's claims had been a bust, just as Bobby predicted, and they had spent several hours crouched in the weeds across and downwind from her spacious yard, with a clear view of nothing.

"Stupid ass, complete waste of time, and we haven't got shit." Dean grumbled out as he glanced back over his shoulder to the quiet gas pumps. He was trying to plot out their next move, but the worry gnawing at his gut was melding with anger over the time lost on his Sasquatch lead, so every possibility seemed just beyond reach. He couldn't afford to wander off into another misguided chase, not with Sam's life on the line.

Bobby's return to the car was greeted by the string of forceful curses. "Well, its not that we didn't get shit — breakfast was pretty tasty." He watched Dean jump and tense slightly before relaxing back against the panel; the kid was so lost in his own pessimistic thoughts, he hadn't heard the older hunter approach. Dean smiled, but the emotion never quite reached his eyes.

Bobby had goaded the younger hunter into sneaking up to Yeske's porch and ganking a couple muffins. He figured they could both use a tasty and filling breakfast to help get through the long day sure to follow. Although he doubted any emptiness Dean was feeling at this moment would be related to hunger — under duress the boy tended to ignore his basic needs — and at Bobby's ripe old age, he had seen this lead to the downfall of many skillful hunters. For this reason, Bobby had also insisted on the gas station detour to fill up on caffeine after what was obviously a sleepless night for both of them.

Bobby handed off one of the newly purchased, luke warm cups of coffee and used his freed hand to pull out the thin stack of newspaper folded under his arm. Dean took the offered warm beverage and looked at it hesitantly before asking, "You didn't slip any sedatives into this, did you?"

"I'd love for you to take a nap, but we don't have that kind of time. Now drink that before I force it down yer gullet." The older hunter responded, eyes glued to the tabloid in his hand and roving each news column.

"Man, someone's cranky this morning." Dean breathed through the soft words as he brought the cup up to his lips and took a few long gulps. "Didn't you have enough time to read through that crap in the weeds this morning?"

"New paper, more local than the ones I picked up on the outskirts of Garland — more county, less Dallas and national news." Bobby paused a moment before continuing, "And I think I just found us a lead. Read that." He practically shoved the crinkled paper into Dean's chest.

The picture at the at the corner of page showed a few trees that seemed to be coated in white. "So either the park is decorating early for Christmas or some rebellious kid used cotton-balls instead of TP." Dean shrugged off the article and started to hand the paper back to Bobby.

"Look at the article you stupid ass." Bobby growled back, then added, "and cut the defeatist attitude before it gets your brother killed." Dean gave the older hunter a hard, furious look. "You heard me, Boy. You got yer head so far up yer ass, you wouldn't notice a lead if you sat on it."

Dean visibly relaxed as he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Bobby was right. He'd always been the type to shoot first and ask questions later. A missing Sam was a strong catalyst to drive him to action, but the worry always made it hard to focus. He was so sure that the Big Foot story would pan out, he never really considered having to find an alternative. If he had just listened to Sam last night, they wouldn't have walked blindly into a dark forest, and the kid would still be with him. The guilt was weaving in with his other negative emotions and further clouding his judgement. He attempted to swallow the stress.

"Sorry, Bobby. What have we got?" He asked quietly and refocused on the article. The title read, Spiders Attempt World Domination, and Dean raised his eyebrows, glancing back at Bobby in disbelief over the title. "Do they even edit this thing?"

"Just stay open and observant." Bobby reassured. "Yes, the title is skeptical, but the picture was taken yesterday afternoon at the northeast edge of the park. Its like all the spiders in the area just up and moved to these couple trees. According to the reporter, no one has ever seen this type of behavior in any species of arachnid. I say we start here and see what else we can find before trekking out into the woods. This is likely to draw students, authorities, and probably some scientists in to the park. If the odd behavior ends up having some connections to the disappearances, we'll be closer to finding Sam."

Dean nodded in agreement and turned to open the Impala's door while Bobby walked around to the passenger side. As they sank into the seats, Dean commented, "Not only is it worth checking out, but I know just where to start for the interviews. Me and Sam bumped into this nerdy guy yesterday who happens to specialize in bugs — I'd put money on him being first in line to check the scene.”

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

Kelvin weaved his way through the pocket groups of tourists, attempting to avoid the flashing camera lights generating from all directions. He understood the fascination surrounding the phenomenon, the thrill of a new discovery. Everyone was out to take photos and form theories, be the first to get their name nationally recognized for explaining the occurrence.

He felt a pang of resentment that it wasn't his discovery getting the publicity, but he knew his genius was likely fueling the strange behavior in all the local insects. After all, you can't introduce a new predator into an ecosystem without some kind of ripple in the native species. As much as he wanted to step forward and accept all due credit for his amazing serum, he knew it had to be further tested and perfected. Revealing his research too soon could lead to someone else high-jacking his work and stealing his recognition.

Once he worked the kinks out of his current project, the fame and wealth would come — he just had to be patient. Hopefully, the kid caught in the web last night would be the turning point, and Kel would return later this afternoon to find the venom had overtaken the boy's system. Then Betsey would be self-reliant, and he could start on his second test subject while monitoring the continued success of his first at a distance.

Kel was also very aware that the rangers he'd run into yesterday had given false identities — he'd spent hours online confirming there was no such government division and no results populated for their names, not even a Facebook page. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that. At least one of them would be out of the picture by the end of today. He was hoping the other one would just take off, but from their short, impromptu discussion yesterday, he didn't seem the type to just let something go — not when he sensed a threat to the public.

He wanted to know who the boys really were and exactly how much they knew about what was happening in the park. He couldn't afford to have his studies compromised at this stage. Maybe he could question the younger kid before letting Betsey finish her meal.

The droning hum of mosquitoes filled his ears as he drifted out of his mind and back to his current surroundings. The webs were thick with the pests, and the spiders were not quick enough to silence them. Speaking of pests…

While caught in his own musings, Kel had nearly walked straight into the other ranger and now stood a mere foot away from Dean's back. Kel quickly turned to hide his face should the guy look back, but did not move any further away. He strained to listen in on the whispered conversation the younger man was having with what appeared to be an old trucker.

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

"Seriously, Bobby, the air is vibrating,” Dean whispered over while glancing at the surrounding thick webs as though they were going to encase him at any second, "I just discovered a new fear. I'm outside, surrounded by fresh air, but still claustrophobic."

"Yea, it's very overwhelming. Try to focus on other things. You find that guy who ran into Sam yesterday?"

"Not yet — I really thought he'd be here for this. Even told us he specialized in bug-ology." Dean watched Bobby shake his head in disappointment and knew the gesture was a response to his vocabulary. "You find any clues while mingling?"

"Talked with a couple professors from Dallas Uni and an entomologist from Cornell who specializes in arachnids and paid bookoo bucks for a last minute flight to be here this morning. Rumor has it, by tomorrow, enough scientists to fill the entire park will be swarming in, so we need to figure out what the hell this thing is today or we're looking at a potential smorgasbord."

Dean scowled a little while he continued to scan the crowd, "This whole incident is making my skin crawl; all I can think about is creepy little monsters with eight legs raking across my skin."

"Yea, this display in itself is concerning even if it’s not related to our monster. Sounds like there are a couple theories as to what this," he gestured around and above to the tightly stretched webs, "is about. I've heard spider orgy, global warming, and migration floating around. My personal favorite came from the entomologist, Dr. Edward Rand. He seems to think that this odd behavior indicates a new predator in the ecosystem. The spiders are moving to avoid a threat in their habitat."

"Makes sense, like when people move out of homes they discover are haunted. We already know there is something lurking in the shadows, picking off humans — fairly recent and escalating in activity." His expression turned thoughtful for a moment, "but why would bugs freak out over a predator that kills humans?"

"Maybe it didn't start with humans and just grew into consuming larger prey; you did say the number of victims is increasing monthly. Or maybe it's eating anything and everything it can get its hands on — no one would notice a few animals disappearing, and we never thought to check on an overall decrease of insect activity." Bobby was racking his brain, pulling at any connection that might involve their mystery monster.

Dean chose that moment to glance around the immediate area, including over his shoulder. He saw the spiked black hair sticking out above most of the crowd and instantly knew it was Kel. The taller, lanky man was several crowds away and looked to be retreating swiftly.

Dean reached out to Bobby's arm with a solid grip, and the older hunter turned to see what caught the kid's attention. "That's the bug guy from yesterday."

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

Kel had overheard enough of the conversation to know the two men were in cahoots, and they had already guessed more than he was comfortable with about his precious Betsey. He need to retreat and regroup — figure out how to get these guys off the trail.

His mind was a mess of jumbled ideas. Should he move Betsey to a new location? Maybe he would get lucky, and she would kill them both before they could spread their knowledge to anyone else. Perhaps he could ransom the cocooned kid's life for their silence and cooperation? If he could make them understand what a milestone he was accomplishing, maybe they would just let him be and move on to another case.

Kel lost out to the overwhelming urge to check on Betsey and confirm her current victim was still subdued by the heavy dose of narcotics.

He shakily grabbed his worn backpack from where he stashed it in the bushes next to an unmarked trail and threw it over his shoulder. He was at the far edge of the webbed trees and just out of site from the crowd.

After taking one last glance back to make sure no one had noticed his hasty disappearance or decided to follow, Kel started down the trail at a quick pace.

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

Dean and Bobby ducked behind a couple trees at Kel's back just as he pulled his pack up from the weeds. He was several shades paler than the punky nerd Dean had encountered yesterday; the guy was clearly rattled over something, and the hunter in him was confident it had nothing to do with the spider webs.

Bobby followed Dean's lead and remained silent as Kel took off into the woods. Even never having meant the guy, Bobby's warning instincts were going off — the jerky movements, slight shakiness, and the quickened breathes were all indications that this stranger was more than alarmed about something.

Once Kel was out of earshot, Dean whispered to Bobby. "I've got a feeling he knows exactly what's going on."

Bobby nodded in understanding and crept forward to the edge of the trail, with Dean right behind him. Kel disappeared around a bend, and they quietly hustled after him.

Dean glanced up at Bobby just as they started down the trail and grinned, "Let's hunt some dork!"

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

TBC


	7. Spider Webs

Kel crouched over, resting his hands on bent knees and gulping down breaths of warm, early-evening air. It had taken almost two hours to reach Betsey's lair, and jogging most of the distance had left him winded. Heat drew beads of sweat from his skin and he had to take a moment to cool down. The earthy pit regulated temperature fairly well, but there would be no breeze underground.

He listened intently for any nearby sounds around the pulse drumming in his ears — more than once on his run, he had gotten the distinct feeling that someone was tracking him. After a few minutes, everything was still silent and Kel slipped through the narrow, barely visible opening.

Kel emerged in the cavern and made his way over to the web, careful to avoid the white elastic patches stretched over the ground. He dropped his backpack next to Sam and took out the gloves, quickly coating them with gray powder. He reached up to the younger man's face and started to pull the webbing off, the elasticity vanishing at contact with the substance. With the drug just wearing off, Sam moaned a few times at the rough touches against his cheeks.

Once Kel had cleared the facial area, he dug a gloved finger into Sam's mouth to remove some of the web within and to create a small cavity. He took a water bottle from his pack and dumped a little of the powder inside, allowing the mixture to coalesce, before tipping it to against the younger man's lips.  
The liquid worked as it was designed and the tight strands released their hold on Sam's teeth; the remaining droplets, trickled down his throat and caused his head to jerk forward, choking him awake. His eyes rolled as he tried to concentrate beyond the lingering effects of the tranquilizer. He finally managed to focus on the familiar man in front of him, whose lips were moving too fast for Sam to make out any words. A swift movement and stinging pain at the side of his head, brought his hearing back.

Kel scowled as he tried to get Sam coherent enough to answer his questions, finally smacking him across the face. "WHO ARE YOU?" He shouted angrily as Sam's eyes latched onto his. "I want to know the truth. Who are you working with?"

"Huh?" Sam managed and went into a short coughing fit, hacking up some of the congealed webbing that was still stuck in his throat. Small specs of it landed landed on Kel's face and glasses, causing Sam to grin as he got his breath back. "You… you got spunk on your face." Sam giggled slightly, still under the influence of whatever concoction was pumping through his veins — sedatives always made him giddy.

Kel wiped the gunk off his lenses with the corner of his shirt. "Answer me, NOW!" He yelled again as Sam's eyes started to slide closed again. Another blow to his head from the opposite direction caused Sam to groan uncomfortably. Thankfully, the drug was still blocking out most the pain he had felt earlier.

"HEY!" The angry shout echoed from the outer wall and Kel whirled around to face two very pissed off scruffy men pointing guns in his direction.

He jumped back slightly, careful to avoid the webs, and grabbed a small hunter's knife from his back pocket to place against Sam's throat. "Not a step closer," he growled threateningly while jerking his captive's head back by the hair.

The vibrations caused by the more drastic movements had caught Betsey's interest as she sat back in a dark crevice watching the exchange, waiting for more prey to get tangled in her web. A couple of her long black legs inched forward in anticipation.

Dean's aim at Kel's chest remained steady despite the potential threat to Sam. He and Bobby had been able to see most of the room before stepping into the cavern, and it made both hunters' skin crawl. Once in the room, Dean's attention had immediately zeroed-in on Sam, while Bobby kept a vigilant eye for the beast lurking in the shadows.

"Alright," he calmly tried to reason with the demented grad-student, "No one has to get hurt. Let's just lower the weapons…”

"NO!" Kel cut him off angrily. "Who are you guys — really? Why are you here?"

"We're here because of the missing persons. You were right, we're not with the state, but we are trying to make the area safe again by removing the threat."

"Ha. That 'threat' is my life's work and I'll be damned if you're gonna destroy it." Kel shifted his stance again, eyes locked on Dean, waiting for his next move.

Betsey felt the motion in a strand of her web when Kel's foot lightly touched it. Exuberant at the opportunity for another kill to hoard, she lunged forward with speed and precision, her fangs latching into his neck and collar bone.

Before Kel had even registered the attack, he was flung back against a larger part of the web and pinned against the sticky trap. He could feel his throat gushing blood at a high rate and figured the placement of Betsey's fang had slit his jugular. With consciousness fleeing fast, the last clear vision he had of this world was the dark hairy body pressing over him.

Bobby and Dean watched the events unfold within a few quick seconds, momentarily shocked by the monster's size and speed. Bobby snapped out of it first and threw a hand into Dean's chest. "Any thoughts on how ya wanna kill this thing?"

"Whatever works. Once we get Sam out, we'll find out how flammable this shit is." Dean responded quietly, taking soft steps in his brother's direction while the beast was still distracted. He whispered when he got a few feet from his brother, "Sammy?"

Sam's head had dropped forward to his chest, but his eyelashes were fluttering lightly as he continued to fight the lethargic effects of the drug. From a closer distance, Dean could clearly see blood staining the side of Sam's chest were the spider had left massive puncture wounds. "Come on little brother," he encouraged in a hushed voice while reaching up to check Sam's pulse.

Bobby had started moving to the other side of the cavern, trying to get the upper-hand on the spider threat. He had pulled out the largest caliber gun available to him and was moving in for a sure kill at close range when Betsey turned sharply to skitter in Sam's direction. Dean's attempts to rouse his brother had caused enough vibration in the web to alarm the spider, and she was prepared to fight for the prey she had caught.

The oldest hunter was able to get three booming shots into the beast, but they barely had an impact on her exoskeleton. "DEAN!"

Dean looked at the black mass barreling toward them and knew he had to keep the murderous thing away from his brother. He intentionally raked his boot through a few strands anchoring the web and moved several yards away from Sam. His tactic worked and Betsey went for the new meal opportunity. "Come get it, you ugly bitch!"

He pulled the machete from his belt and held it posed in front of his chest. The bulk of the spider was more than he expected, but he managed to knick off one of Betsey's front legs at the joint as her weight drove him to the ground. He rolled so his back was pressed against the ground and thrust the blade up into the spider's abdomen, the sharp edge slicing easily through the molting carapace. Dean managed to slide the machete down the full length of her body, and there was a shrieking sound as her innards fell loose, drenching the older Winchester in fowl smelling entrails.

Betsey seemed to shrink in on herself as her legs curled in and her body rolled off to the side, completely still. Dean breathed heavily as he sat up and looked over the goop that had ruined his clothes. He looked up as Bobby rushed over to him. "What the fuck?"

"You killed it." Bobby's voice sounded immensely relieved.

"Yea, but look at the mess. This didn't happen when the hobbit did it." Dean made a pouty looking face while trying to brush the goo off the edges of his leather jacket.

"You're confusing fantasy with reality again, son." Bobby smiled and reached out a hand to help Dean back to his feet. "Let's get yer brother outta hear so you can go pyro on this creepy-ass place."

By this time, Sam had found his way back to some coherent thoughts and was able to describe the gray powder Kel had used when working with the web. They applied the substance hastily, wanting to get out of the lair as soon as possible. When the strands holding him finally came loose, Dean and Bobby helped get his feet on the ground. Sam immediately crumpled, knees buckling as pain flared through the left side of his body.

Dean managed to catch his brother before his head could hit the ground and pulled Sam back against his chest, so Bobby could take a look at the puncture woulds at the side of his ribcage. The oldest hunter tore Sam's shirt a bit more to get a clear look at the angry injury and grimaced when he saw the black coloration of something slightly protruding from beneath the kid's skin. He had Dean hold his brother still while poking around the area — no broken ribs, but the tangible object had slid in against two of the bones.

Bobby brought the first aid kit along, but didn't have anything with him to remove the impaling object. Luckily, Kel's discarded pack was crammed full of lab supplies, including a pair of forceps. Sam was too heavy to carry all the way back to the car and there was a high risk of further damage if they tried to get him walking with the object in such close proximity to his vital organs.

When Bobby signaled he was ready, Dean tucked Sam's head under his chin and put a steadying hand across his brother's forehead. Sam immediately started squirming in pain as Bobby quickly peeled back some healing skin to get the forceps around the foreign object. Dean shifted his arm to hold Sam's chest still. "Easy Sammy, it'll be over in a minute. Hurry it up, Bobby."

"I'm goin' as fast as I can, just keep him still." Bobby locked his focus on the task at hand and after another stressful minute, was able to slid the object out from Sam's ribs. The younger Winchester cried out sharply before the tension left and he fell back, breathing heavily.

Sam's right hand curled into Dean's jeans by the knee as he tried to will the pain away. "Dean… hurts."

"I know Sam, but we can't give you any painkillers yet — there's no telling what that asshole put in your system." Dean commented while rubbing his thumb around the injection sight on Sam's left arm.

Bobby stayed quiet while applying the antibiotic cream and dressing the wounds. Luckily, the injuries looked much worse than they actually were. Dean watched while whispering comforting words to his brother, relieved to have him back in one piece.

Just as Bobby finished packing away their supplies, Dean spoke up, "So what was in his chest?" Sam was practically out cold again, still laying against Dean as the older brother brushed the shaggy bangs away from his eyes, feeling the slightly fevered skin.

"Looked like a fang." Bobby replied.

"Ouch." Dean grimaced and glanced back to the black mass of dead spider — just knowing it was there made his skin crawl — and sure enough, the expired beast only had one remaining fang.

"Pretty sure Sam thought the same when it broke off inside him. You ready to head out? I can sit with him outside while you torch the place." Dean nodded to Bobby's question and started to rouse his brother. The thought of this place going up in a furious blaze was deeply satisfying and he grinned from ear to ear in anticipation.

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

TBC


	8. Sasquatches

As it turns out, the chemically altered webbing was highly flammable and everything flared up in minutes — going out almost as quickly when the fuel supply was exhausted. Dean and Bobby got Sam up between their shoulders, supporting most of his weight. Sam was only semi-lucid, but managed to get one foot in front of the other on the slow trek back to the Impala.

About half way back to the car, Sam’s mind had gradually regained focus and although exhausted, his walking became a bit more even. His side still felt like it was on fire and he was constantly pushing down the nausea threatening to spill his guts. He closed his eyes briefly to magnify the cool sensation the breeze left over his skin. Dusk was creeping steadily toward a chilly night and a stillness fell over the surrounding forest. 

Amongst the insistent pounding filling his ears, Sam caught a distant, distinct tapping noise to his right. Bobby and Dean didn’t seem to notice as the three hunters continued their forward shuffle. Moments later, the sound came again, but to his left this time. Sam dragged his feet slightly while shifting his head around, searching through the trees on either side of the trail. 

Dean felt his brother’s weight shift and halted with him. “Sam, you okay?”

He nodded quickly, his head still up and alert. “Did you guys hear that?”

“Hear what?” Bobby followed.

“A tapping noise… like hollow rocks being struck together. It’s on both sides of us.”

The three hunters held completely still, barely breathing in suspense of the next sound. They didn’t have to wait long. Snapping tree limbs from the direction they were heading had Dean pulling his pistol from the back waistband of his jeans. 

Bobby shifted to take more of Sam’s weight so Dean would be free to engage the potential threat. “Dammit. There’s more monster spiders creeping out here?” Bobby swore, wishing that they could have gotten more intel out of Kel before his demise. 

Three sets of eyes stared intently at the path ahead as a low hanging branch several yards out swayed at an unnatural angle, against the breeze. 

Dean was just about to move forward when a tall black figure stepped out of the thick undergrowth. In the dimming light, it was difficult to clearly distinguish any features, but the bi-pedal creature only paused for a moment before taking one large stride and disappearing back into the forest. 

“What the… BIGFOOT!” Dean made a short pause in momentary disbelief before sprinting forward after the tall creature. 

Sam blinked rapidly and whispered to Bobby. “I’m still hallucinating from the drug, right?”

“If you are, then that psycho somehow managed to dose us all.” Bobby chuckled. “Come on and try to take it easy. My back ain’t in no shape to carry ya. We’ll just have to catch up to yer idgit brother.”

Dean’s eyes rigorously searched the shadows on the left side of the path where the beast had vanished. He pulled out his flashlight, but there was still too much natural light filtering through the canopy for the beam to be effective. There was no movement or sound around him — it was like the damn thing just blinked out of existence. 

He caught movement to his right as Sam and Bobby made their way toward him. Dean crouched down to get a better look at the worn path and found the partial imprint of a massive foot in the loose soil. “Hey Sam, its feet are actually bigger than yours!”

Sam rolled his eyes as they came up to his brother, his face covered in sweat from the exertion he was putting forth with his current injuries. He was too exhausted to bother with a come back. His older brother realized this too as Bobby grunted under the strain of Sam sagging against him.

Dean glanced longingly in the direction the sasquatch had fled before tucking his gun back into his waistband. He pulled Sam’s free arm around his neck, evening out the extra weight Bobby had been supporting. 

“Ain’t you going after it Dean? Might not get another chance.” Bobby asked. “Sam and I can probably make it back to the car. It’ll just take a bit longer.”

“No. I think we’ve had enough excitement for today.” Dean glanced sympathetically at his younger brother. “Besides, we know they’re here now — if the disappearances continue, we’ll come back and deal with it. I’m willing to bet it was all Shelob’s doing though.”

“Actually… her name was Betsey.” Sam’s tired voice corrected.

“Whoop-de-freak-in-do Sammy. Who cares what its name was — it almost had you for dinner.”

“Don’t c-call me Sammy.”

Sam stumbled slightly as he lost the battle to keep his stomach in check and hurled a mouthful of bile onto Bobby’s boot. The eldest hunter scoffed, jumping slightly, and stirred up the dirt on the path while attempting to wipe his shoe clean. “Would both of you just shut the hell up until we get back to the car?” He grumbled. 

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

Once in the parking lot, Dean got Sam settled into the back seat, resting on his uninjured side, where the younger brother promptly fell asleep. Bobby was about to take his seat shot-gun when Dean halted him and shoved a grocery bag into his hand. “Not so fast old man. The puke-boot is not setting foot inside Baby.”

Bobby glared at the younger man in disbelief, “You’re not serious.”

“Deadly serious.” Dean slammed the trunk lid down and made his way to the driver seat. 

Bobby slipped his boot off, making a great effort to touch as little of the bile-coated material as possible, and placed the offensive item in the bag before taking his seat next to Dean.  
The Impala’s engine roared to life and Dean eased on the gas so as not to jar his brother awake. After a few minutes, an odd smell had him sniffing to find its source. “What the Hell is that stink? Kinda smells like…”

“Feet.” Bobby finished. “Or more precisely, sweaty three-day worn, cotton socks because someone insisted the boot be taken off.” 

Dean made a disgusted face before hurriedly cracking his window. “That foulness better not wake Sam.” 

“Well it ain’t like I planned on staying in the field for two more days or gettin’ puked on. You’ll both just have to deal.”

By the time they got to Bobby's truck it was just after midnight and the temperature had dropped to a cool forty degrees. Dean hadn’t wanted the nasty foot smell to be absorbed by the interior fabric so he left the window cracked while the heater fought to displace the cold breeze.  
Upon arrival at the small cabin, both hunters got out of the car. 

Dean walked around back to the trunk and pulled out a thick blanket to toss over Sam who was still out cold in the back seat. His brother appeared to be resting comfortably despite having his long legs folded against the door. After this hunt, he was going to make damn sure his brother got a few days of rest. 

Bobby made his way over to the rusty S10 and hauled himself into the driver’s seat. He found himself a bit anxious to get home. It wasn’t often he did hunts out of state anymore — preferring to leave the more dangerous activities to younger men while he managed the research end — and was sorely missing his bed and library. Not to mention, the phone lines were unmanned while he was away which could yield disastrous results if an inexperienced hunter needed pointers on a case. Bobby looked over at the Impala to find Dean making his way up to the truck. 

"Look," Dean started, "I know we haven't really talked for a while, — still not sure exactly what Dad did to piss you off — but uh, thank you for helping me out with this." The words were a little rushed, but definitely sincere.

Bobby smiled at Dean as he pulled the door of his S10 shut and manually rolled the window down. "Far as I'm concerned you boys will always be family… regardless of how much a jackass yer daddy is. Call me anytime. Be safe and keep a close eye on Sam for the next couple days. If his fever gets any worse, you make sure he sees a doctor. No telling what sort of bacteria he coulda picked up in there; infection ain’t nothing to mess with.”

“I’ll get us a motel room so I can thoroughly clean the wound and will probably run him by a clinic in the morning; precautionary visit if nothing else. Take care Bobby.” Dean watched as the pick-up pulled away.

Sliding back behind the wheel of the Impala, he took another glance over his shoulder at his brother. Sam was definitely down for the night. Dean yawned, feeling the fatigued ache of not sleeping for almost forty-eight hours. He threw the car into reverse and sped away from the tiny cabin, intent on finding a clean, air-conditioned motel room — equipped with indoor plumbing AND cable — for Sam's recovery time.

*** SPN SPN SPN SPN ***

THE END


End file.
